Passion's Opposite
by Moretta
Summary: Hermione is secretly fed a Potion  that makes her act completely opposite to normal. She fails a test, talks back in class... so why does she still hate Draco?Slightly humorous, quite fluffy, sometimes very OOC characters. As implied by the actual plot.


**A/N:** Hello! This was SCarol's birthday fic that I never got round to posting.  
You got it anyway, so you can't complain, but Happy Late Birthday anyway.  
I don't understand, how can my stories go _501_ hits, _**6**_ reviews??  
Never mind... ENJOY!

* * *

**Passion's opposite**

It was on an evening of no distinction in October that it started.  
During the middle of supper, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open and in rushed Hermione Granger, unusually late.  
She crossed the Hall to the Gryffindor table, sat down next to Ginny, filled her plate and ate so quickly that she seemed to just be gulping down her food.  
Harry and Ron, her best friends, who were sitting in front of her, stopped eating and just stared at her concernedly, waiting for her to notice.  
"What?" She asked, reaching for a baked potato.  
"Well, aren't you usually the one to tell me to slow down, to_ chew my food_, there's no rush?"  
She nodded, cutting into her beef.  
"So calm down!" said the exasperated redhead, "The teachers won't kill you if you don't finish the homework on the day they gave it to you!"  
She glared at him, even as she reached over Ginny for the carrots.  
"Ronald, I will _not_ take study advice from you, of all people."  
"Fine," he shrugged, "just don't agonise over it."  
"Exactly," added Harry, "it's bad for you. As is eating quickly. Slow down!"  
But Hermione was already standing up, "Can't. I've got Arithmancy to do. Those 3 feet won't write themselves!"  
She drained her glass and left the Hall as suddenly as she had entered it, unaware of two pairs of eyes watching her.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was shaken out of his reverie, literally, when Blaise Zabini had had enough. Giving the blond's shoulder another shake, he smirked as Draco glared at him.  
"You were staring again." Said Blaise, lightly.  
"I was not _staring_. I was merely thinking."  
"Right," said Blaise sarcastically, "head up in the clouds, mind elsewhere, but your eyes, my friend, were fixed on her."  
Draco said nothing, just resumed his glaring and speared a piece of carrot rather savagely.  
The dark boy grinned, nudging Pansy in the side, who grinned right back.  
"Go on, Draco," she said, "We know you're dieing to rant."  
Draco tried to move his glare onto the girl, but gave up.  
"It's just… _her._ Almost anyone else would have been fine, but a Gryffindor? A Muggleborn? I might as well disown myself! Besides, she'd never want me, I'm "ferret", remember? The stupid Malfoy git, the bane of her existence, her best friends' enemy, the one she competes against daily…" he sighed and looked down at his plate, "When did this happen?"  
"Third year, I believe," replied the girl, brightly, "After she slapped you."  
Draco shot her a nasty look, "That was a rhetorical question, Pansy."  
She shrugged, "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you want to be the Romeo to her Juliet…"  
"… the Merlin to her Morgana…" added Blaise.  
"Oh, good one! The Head Boy to her Head girl…"  
"I already am Head Boy." Draco pointed out, tired of the incessant teasing.  
"Well that's one less obstacle then!" Smirked Blaise.  
Draco turned back to his plate –again – poking at the food with disinterest.  
"Why her?" he asked no one particular.  
"Here we go again." Started Blaise, "Because she's smart…"  
"… funny…"  
"… good looking…"  
"… interested in the same things you are…"  
"… just as studious as you are if not more… "  
"… and, as we've heard about a million times before, too _good_ for you." Concluded Pansy.  
"What do you mean?" asked Draco, confused.  
"Well, you go one about her being the epitome of good, whereas you're supposed to be evil. But I suspect you really want her because she's the one you can't have."  
"I hadn't thought of that." Remarked Blaise.  
"Do you really think that's why I like her?" asked Draco, his Malfoy attitude subdued for a moment.  
Pansy reached over the table and smacked the back of his head.  
"Parkinson!" exclaimed Draco, shocked.  
Crabbe and Goyle – also known as Vince and Greg – snickered.  
"I don't see you contributing deeply intellectual statements to the conversation!" Snapped the blond.  
"That," said Vince, "is because we don't have to prove our eloquence to you. We're fine just observing the three of you converse. Especially as those two seem to be doing a decent enough job of playing with your brain."  
"Huh?" Draco cocked his head to one side.  
"And I thought _we_ were supposed to be pretending to be stupid…" Muttered Greg.  
"What we mean, Draco," explained Blaise, "is that we find it strange that you – the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, Prince of Slytherin, to those who don't know you," he got a smack on the head for that, "King of cool, cunning, etcetera – cannot start a civil conversation with her – bookworm extraordinaire, one third of the Golden Trio, know-it-all Mudbl—"  
"Do _NOT_ call her that!" Draco shouted, not even noticing that he had leapt to his feet and was now standing over Blaise in a threatening manner.  
He caught himself, and as everyone blinked at him, he slowly sat back down.  
"Wow," smiled Pansy dreamily, "you really do care about her…"  
Greg looked at her with an expression that clearly said, 'girls…'.  
"I don't know her well enough to care for her," Draco admitted, "but I'd like to."  
"Still," continued Blaise, "I find it strange that you can't seem to talk to her!"  
"Talking isn't the problem. We've got duties together, as Head Boy and Girl. But do you really expect me to walk up to her and say, 'Granger, I'm sorry for tormenting you and yours for all these years, would you like to form a long-term, meaningful relationship that can't go too far, as I'm not sure I can keep on seeing you once we've graduated?'"  
Pansy sighed, "And we're back to the parents. I'm sure Narcissa would help you if you told her you didn't want to become one of _them_. But you could tell Granger that too."  
He snorted. "Somehow I still can't see her replying favourably."  
"You never know," said Vince, "she might think the same of you."  
And that was when Draco abandoned all hope of a conversation not revolving around his love life – or lack thereof.

The next morning, as Draco dragged himself to the Great Hall for breakfast, rumours and  
whispers were floating all around him, but he didn't notice, asleep as he was. Perfectly groomed, blank mask in place, yes, but inside he was asleep.  
Pansy passed him the coffee and his brain slowly woke up. He finally noticed everyone's whispers, but no one told him what the rumours were. Not feeling up to talking quite yet, he settled down in his seat, took a bite of toast and chewed. His eyes were drawn to the Gryffindor table by habit and he absently noticed Hermione's absence. Potter and Weasley were talking animatedly, but seemed wary of the others.  
He shrugged it all off, thinking she was probably already in the library.  
He finished his breakfast, cast a breath freshening charm and stretched lazily. Mentally running through his timetable, he waited for his friends to finish eating, and then they all headed towards the dungeons for Potions. With the Gryffindors.  
Oh yes, Draco was looking forward to the double period of staring at Granger.

* * *

Once Snape had swooped into the Potions room, resembling a rather large bat, black robes billowing, Draco had a good chance to look for Hermione.  
She wasn't there.  
He blinked, glanced at Pansy who was staring intently at her nails, and looked back at the place the Muggleborn usually occupied in class. It was empty.  
Snape barked out instructions and flicked his wand at the board, which was soon covered in information about the lesson's potion.  
The class was halfway through the lesson when the door burst open, revealing what seemed to be Hermione Granger. But surely, it couldn't be her?  
This girl was wearing her robes undone, her hair loose and a lot of makeup, compared to Hermione's usually neat and tidy appearance. This girl had black lines around her eyes, dark red lipstick and a pale face underneath the sombre colours. Upon closer inspection her robes were purposely loose, not undone. Her hair was every which way, not tied back to stay out her face, as was her norm.  
Without a word, she walked to her desk and slouched in her seat, already seemingly bored.  
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for tardiness, Miss Granger."  
"Oh, shove off, you old bat." Replied the girl, shocking everyone.  
"Let's make that fifty, shall we?"  
"Whatever. If I were Ferret over there, you wouldn't even be looking my way; any Slytherin, and no points would have been taken."  
Snape blinked at her and sneered, "Just for that, it's a week's worth of detentions. With Filch."  
Hermione glared at him defiantly, "You know what, _Professor_, sod this. I'm off."  
And with that, she left the stunned class behind her and headed for the hall.  
"Granger! One more step and it will be a month's worth!"  
She turned around to look at him, cocked her head to one side, smiled sweetly and waved at him, "Bye bye, Snivellus." And banged the door shut.  
"Two months!" Snape's voice even carried through the thickness of the stone walls.  
Not a sound could be heard in the classroom, except for Snape's pacing and uneven breathing.  
He moved towards his desk, his students apparently forgotten. Only when someone coughed did he look up and stare at the class who was sitting completely still, completely silent, waiting for his orders.  
Snape furrowed his brow at them.  
"Class dismissed."  
The students didn't move.  
"I. Said. _Out_!"  
They didn't need telling again.

* * *

By lunchtime, tales of the incident were flying around the school like rogue Bludgers.  
Draco was horribly confused. Hermione had never acted this way before.  
In Arithmancy that day, she had failed the test, unheard of for her. When asked by the teacher about her poor result, she replied, with a roll of her eyes, that it was just a test, she would do better next time, the teacher shouldn't bug her about it.  
Apparently, when asked by Professor Flitwick about her homework, she stated she hadn't done it. Once again, when asked why, she had simply said, 'Couldn't be bothered," and shrugged.  
Harry and Ron were going around looking like goldfish, gaping at her halfway between worry and terror, whispering energetically and sometimes shooting him strange glances.  
A Gryffindor First year had asked her for help, and Hermione had pushed him out of the way.  
Staring at her now, across the Hall, even her eating habits had altered, Draco noticed. She was shovelling her food down with a voracity that rivalled Weasley's, and that was no mean feat.  
Draco shook his head and got up, wanting to think about this sudden change in her. His friends followed him without a word.  
But, as he reached the doors, someone bumped into him.  
"Watch where you're go- Oh."  
It was _her_.  
"Look, git, you crashed into me, not the other way round. Now get out of my way, Ferret, I have no desire to be around _you_."  
"Likewise, Granger" He sneered.  
"Oh, I'm not sure it is. I've seen the way you stare at me across the room. The way you watch my every move." She got closer to him, step by step, word by sharp word. She was not in any way being discreet, or tactful. No, her words were chosen carefully to hurt him, to humiliate him. "You're fascinated by _me_, a 'common Mudblood'."  
It took every ounce of control he had not to flinch at her tone.  
"And yet, I'm better than you." She looked at his disdainfully. "You are nothing but a lowly worm, who will be bound to a lunatic you shall call 'Master'. You'll kiss the hem of his robes and grovel before him. I find it rather fitting, Ferret, that you should bow before him, a Half-Blood, when trying to prove Purebloods superior. Just shows how wrong you are, doesn't it?"  
She spat at him and flounced off, leaving Draco wide-eyed and nauseous, quickly looking for a bathroom.  
She was right.  
It was no use denying it.

* * *

In the Gryffindor Common Room, slightly before supper, Harry and Ron were discussing Hermione's condition. Again. They hadn't been doing much else all day.  
She hadn't been seen since lunch, skipping all her classes, not doing her homework, even going so far as avoiding Neville, whom she usually tutored in Potions.  
Harry was sitting on a sofa, staring at his hands.  
"Right, so we've established that it's not usual for her to act this way. Something's changed her."  
"Well deduced." Ginny rolled her eyes, "But why would she change?"  
"I don't know!" Ron was the most frustrated out of all the Gryffindors. Everyone knew that the redhead was very protective of his friends, and Hermione was, in his view, the least able to defend herself, for the simple fact of being a girl.  
"Look," said Harry, "maybe she's trying to prove a point of some sort. Did you say something wrong to her yesterday?"  
His question was directed at Ron.  
"Why me? And no, as far as I remember. She was fine. Except for the fact that she wolfed everything down last night, she never does that."  
"Hmm. Ok, ok, so if she isn't doing this of her own accord, it has to be a spell of some sort."  
Ginny stood up quickly, "I'll go get Luna."  
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Why?"  
Ginny shrugged, "I came to the conclusion that we were getting nowhere, and four heads are better than three. Besides, I could use the walk."  
"Right then. We'll see you later." Harry waved her off.  
Struck by a sudden inspiration, he asked Ron, "Do you think it could have been a dare?"  
"Why would she accept a dare like that?" Ron looked confused.  
"How should I know!" said Harry, "But remember the time Lavender came down dressed in bright pink from head to toe? Or the time Parvati dyed her hair blue? Maybe Hermione got the short straw this time."  
"Doesn't sound like our Hermione." Said Ron, doubtfully.  
"True, but maybe she's different when she's with the girls. After all, we're different when we're with Neville, Seamus and Dean, just us boys."  
"I suppose." Ron hesitated, then seemed to make his mind up. "Harry, have you been noticing Malfoy staring at her recently, or is it just me?"  
"No, I've seen it too. Though he may of course be trying to figure out how he can get me to Voldemort."  
Surprisingly enough, Ron was so deep in thought that he forgot to flinch.  
"I don't think so; I think he's looking at her. And he hasn't insulted her for a long time. Us as a group yes," he added hastily as Harry started to interrupt, "but not just her. No 'Mudblood', no 'know-it-all', no jabs at her parents or anything! Slight sneers at the 'Golden Trio', but nothing concerning her directly."  
"You're on to something there. But still, what would he want with her?"  
"I don't know. And that's what worries me."

* * *

Draco wasn't faring very well.  
His housemates were trying to drag him to dinner, but he didn't want to be anywhere where Hermione could be.  
"Draco Malfoy! You're acting like a spoilt five year old!" shrieked Pansy, "You will get up _now_ and face the damn woman if she comes near you the way you were taught. You will not let her affect you! Haven't you not noticed she's not herself!"  
But he wasn't listening.  
"Oh, I give up," she sighed, "Blaise? Blaise, can you try?"  
He nodded, "Don't know if it'll work though."  
He sat down on the sofa next to the sulking blond.  
"Hey mate."  
Draco snorted.  
"Come to dinner. Can't have the Prince of Slytherin afraid of confrontation, can we?"  
"I will _not_. I shall remain here until such a time I deem myself ready for any confrontation. Didn't you hear what she said, what she did, this morning?"  
"I did," Blaise acknowledged, "but, as Pansy said, you can't let her affect you, she obviously wasn't herself."  
"What?"  
"Haven't you been watching that girl long enough to know how she normally looks, acts, and so on? She was wearing makeup, Draco. Makeup, on Granger. She talked back to Snape. To _Snape_, of all people! Surely this isn't normal behaviour, especially for the Head Girl."  
Draco shook his head. It was most definitely _not_ normal behaviour.  
"I don't know what's wrong with her, but we're trying to find out. Not even Potter or Weasley have any clue as to what has happened to her."  
Draco sighed, "Alright. I'll go to supper. Just don't expect me to talk to any of you."  
Greg and Vince nodded, used to this, and started for the door, eager for food.

* * *

Harry groaned as he entered the Great Hall, turned right back around and tried to stop Ron from coming in.  
"Err, mate?" came his best friend's voice from his left, "I thought we were going _in_ to eat…"  
A loud laugh caught Ron's attention and he looked up to see Hermione, in what looked like a scarf and a belt. As Ginny later clarified, they were actually a tank top and a miniskirt, though by far the tiniest that she had ever seen.  
But back to the brunette in question. She was currently standing on the Ravenclaw dinner table, in _those_ clothes, with glittery make up – but the black was still around her yes, visible through the multicoloured sparkling – and sparkly clips in her hair, dancing. Worse yet, _dirty dancing_ with the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.  
Ron saw red. He wanted to protect her, that was his instinct, but she was doing… _that_, and he couldn't believe his eyes. But before he could act, someone else had pulled the pair off the table.  
"Twenty points from each Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for public indecency!"  
"Shit," whispered Harry, "it's Malfoy!"  
"And detention to you, Captain. For taking advantage of a girl who is clearly not in her right mind."  
"Oh, clear off, Ferret. I was having fun!" said Hermione.  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "I could see that, Miss Granger, as you are in the middle of the Great Hall, whether you had realised it or not. And, as _Head Girl_," he emphasised this last bit, "this is the worst way to be setting an example. Be glad I'm not a teacher; it could be much, much worse."  
And with that, he pointed his wand at Hermione, who was soon dressed in full school uniform, right down to the Gryffindor badge on her chest.  
Her face appeared to have been scrubbed, there was no trace of either black or glitter, and her hair was scraped back in a bun.  
She screamed in frustration.  
"Ferret!" she screeched, "How dare you! You slimy little git, how _dare_ you! I will not stand for this! You are the most infuriating, creepy, unfeeling git that I've seen and I've had enough, _Incendio_!"  
Malfoy's robes caught fire, and Harry and Ron leapt into action, dousing him with water. Ron walked in front of the blond, gently offering his hand to the girl who was still on the table.  
"Hermione, can you calm down now," pleaded the redhead, "just for a while? We want to take you to Madam Pomfrey, just to check…"  
"There is nothing to check, Ronald!" she retorted, "Health wise, I am perfectly fine. Now get out of the way. I don't want you in my line of fire, I like you."  
She leveled her wand at his chest, "But if you won't move, I will not hesitate to hex you too."  
Ron gulped audibly.  
"Harry?" he croaked.  
"I'm sorry Hermione," said the wizard, "_Stupefy_!"  
And that was what the Headmaster saw when he walked in.

* * *

"… and that's when I Stunned her."  
"I see." Said Dumbledore, stroking his long beard. "Well, my dear boy, it seems I owe you an apology." Nodding to the other two students, who were studiously avoiding each other's gaze. "Twenty points to Slytherin for handling the situation so well. And ten each to Gryffindor for trying to convince her at first."  
The Gryffindors gaping at each other, they'd been convinced that they would lose points, not earn them. Draco was staring at the Headmaster, his mask slipping slightly.  
"Harry, Ron, you may leave. You can visit her in the morning. And _no_ sneaking out to see her during the night. I'm not quite sure she'd appreciate the gesture." He added, eyes doing that damn twinkling that had become something of a trademark look for the old man.  
"And me, sir?" asked Draco, somewhat confused.  
"No, Mister Malfoy, I wish to talk to you. You see, I have talked with Poppy and run some tests, and I have concluded that young Miss Granger is under the influence of the Diversus Potion."  
"That is not possible." Stated Draco, before realising who he was speaking with and adding a belated, "Sir."  
"Why not?" asked Dumbledore.  
"Because, to my knowledge, the Potion changes the person's personality completely upside-down, the person becomes the complete opposite of what they were before."  
"That is indeed correct, Mister Malfoy." Nodded the older man, tapping the pads of his fingers together.  
"I realise that the way she acted to day is not normal, sir, but I'm certain it must be something else!"  
"And why is that?"  
"Because Granger hated me!" the words burst out of him, just as they had at dinner only the night before, "Both before and after having drunk the potion! It can't be, it must be something else." Draco said it with such vehemence that, had the Headmaster not known the truth, he would have believed the Head Boy.  
"Perhaps, my boy, things are not always as they seem. After all, the Malfoys may be famous for their masks, but that doesn't mean the rest of us don't possess them."  
Draco closed his eyes and leant his head back. Gods, how he hated those cryptic answers.  
"And now, it is time for you to go back to Slytherin. It's almost curfew. Goodnight."  
Draco silently walked away from the Headmaster's office, going over the conversation time and time again, reaching a conclusion only seconds before entering his Common Room.

* * *

"I did _WHAT_?"  
Hermione's shriek could be heard from the other side of the castle. Or at least, so it felt to Harry and Ron who were sitting beside her.  
"Yeah," smirked Ginny, "and _Malfoy_ came to your rescue."  
Luna smiled that dreamy smile of hers, "Yes, it was quite strange. I was sitting nearby. He acted very noble, for a Slytherin. Maybe you've been influencing him, as Head Girl."  
"Oh Merlin," breathed the brunette, sitting up in her bed, "I failed an Arithmancy test! And Flitwick must be so angry about the homework! I spent ages on it! And poor David!" she exclaimed, referring to the First year. "What else? Did I get into any fights?" she bit her lip.  
"Good morning, Miss Granger!" said the Headmaster brightly, entering the Infirmary.  
"And good morning to you too, Poppy!" he grinned at the Nurse.  
The Healer smiled back at him.  
"I trust you are better?" he asked Hermione.  
"Much better, thank you, sir." She answered, back to her polite self, "I just can't believe I would do all that. And, what's worse, I have no memory of the day at all."  
Sensing that this was going to be a serious talk, the Gryffindors left.  
"I don't think any of us thought you capable of such things."  
She nodded, staring at the sheets.  
"But it was not your fault."  
"No?"  
"No. Unless you intended to drink the Diversus Potion…"  
"What?" exclaimed Hermione, for the second time in the space of a few short minutes.  
"That is what we believe you were given."  
"Right. Thank you sir."  
"You are most welcome, Hermione. I shall take my leave now and leave you to your thoughts. Good day."  
"Bye..." whispered Hermione, deep in thought.  
She knew all about the potion, of course, as it was a likely topic for the NEWTs. What she didn't know was why she would drink it of her own accord. Who had put it in her drink? And was she really in such a hurry the night before – no, two nights before – that she hadn't noticed the smell of the potion in her pumpkin juice?  
She looked up when she felt a weight on the bed.  
Luna cocked her head to the side and said, "You had quite an argument with Draco Malfoy."  
Hermione furrowed her brow, "You mean last night?"  
"No," she said pensively, and shook her head, dirty blonde hair waving from side to side, "at lunch time. You said lots of things about Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, angrily too, then you left. Apparently he was sick afterwards."  
Hermione's eyes widened.  
"Who saw?"  
"Just you, him, his friends and me. I was leaving when you bumped into each other. It was awful. But then, passion stays passion, doesn't it?"  
Hermione nodded absently before shaking her head, "What does that mean?"  
Luna grinned at her, all vagueness, all her airy manners – gone, replaced by a lucidity and an intelligent glint in her eye that left the Head Girl speechless.  
"It means, Hermione, that you've been hiding behind the same mask you accuse Malfoy of wearing."  
With a wink and a wave, she was gone.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had kept Hermione is the Hospital Wing all day, despite her loud and well-reasoned protests.  
When she finally did let her go, the girl realised that she had Head Girl duties. With Malfoy, no less.  
She would thank him and pray that Dumbledore hadn't told him about the potions.  
Oh _please_, let Dumbledore not have told him about the potion!

* * *

He hadn't spoken to anyone all day.  
Now, Draco Malfoy was not a man of few words, so this confused everyone greatly until Greg muttered, "He's thinking," to the girlgirlrest of the group.  
They had found him the night before gaping at the wall where the entrance to the Common Room was, rooted to the spot.  
They still didn't know what had caused him such a shock, but were trying their best to find out, though he refused to speak to anybody.  
He was now walking once again towards the Great Hall, where he and Hermione always started their rounds. He was surprised to find the girl already there, waiting for him.  
"Out of the Hospital Wing already?" he raised an eyebrow, "How did you convince Pomfrey?"  
She smiled, "That's for me to know, and you to ask about until the end of the year."  
"Right. Well, Granger, left or right?"  
"We went left last time, so right it is."  
As they veered up to the first floor, Hermione grew increasingly nervous. Did he know?  
"Look, Malfoy…"  
"Yes?"  
"Well, I wanted to thank you for trying to help me yesterday. I may not have appreciated at the time -"  
"That is something of an understatement." Muttered the boy.  
"- but I appreciate it now. So thank you. And I also apologise for the argument we had yesterday. I'm sure it was completely my fault, and though I can't remember any of it at all, I was told I was utterly awful to you. I'm sorry."  
Draco blinked at her, stopping in his tracks.  
"You… what?"  
"I'm sorry. It wasn't me, it was the potion."  
"No, I meant, why would you apologise? Surely it's only fair after the way I've treated you and your friends for years?"  
"No. Nothing is 'fair' when it comes to things like this. But I've noticed that since we've been working together, first as Prefects and then as Heads, you've made an effort. Not just with me, but with the boys as well. I'm really grateful for the fact that 'Mudblood' is no longer a word you use against me."  
"You noticed?" He bit his lip and cocked his head to one side, looking adorably confused.  
She couldn't help but smile, "Of course. I see and speak to you practically every day, how could I not?"  
For once, he smiled – really _smiled_ – back at her, then looked rather sheepish.  
"So…" he changed the topic, embarrassed, and started walking again, "do you know what happened? You said 'potion', but which one?"  
"Oh, just… a potion." She said, stumbling over both the hems of her robes and her words.  
He raised an eyebrow at her, "If you think I'll leave it at that, Granger, then you are sorely mistaken."  
She mumbled under her breath.  
"I didn't quite catch that…"  
"The Diversus Potion." She repeated, slower this time, hoping against hope that he hadn't studied it.  
"Ah."  
She looked at him curiously, "That's it? 'Ah'?"  
"Well, what did you expect?"  
"I don't know, something a little more… you."  
He smiled a bit, "Things are not always as they seem. After all, my father may be famous for his masks, but that doesn't mean the rest of us don't possess them."  
"Sounds like the Headmaster." She commented.  
Draco inwardly grinned.  
They resumed walking, Hermione now obviously so lost in her thoughts that she was paying less attention than before, almost tripping on a step.  
They tiptoed past a picture of sleeping monks and stayed quietly in step.  
"Hermione?" whispered Draco.  
"What?" she replied, whispering also.  
"Stop thinking so much. I think I know who put the potion in your drink."  
She pulled away from him, but he caught her hand before she could go too far.  
"Who?" she asked urgently.  
"Have you really not figured it out yet?" he asked, in a light, almost teasing tone.  
She narrowed her eyes at him.  
"I'll give you a clue. He/she/it always seems to know what's right for us."  
"You mean…"  
Draco nodded.

* * *

"No! Why would he?"  
Draco pulled her close, and wrapped his hands around her waist.  
"Because he _knew_…"  
And he kissed her.

* * *

Well, this was nothing like she had imagined their first kiss would be.  
In her mind, he would have proclaimed that he had feelings for her in front of a crowd of disbelieving students, then come up to her, dipped her backwards and kissed her, as though they were in an American film.  
This kiss, while not the one she had envisaged, was sweet and soft and lovely and _perfect_.  
They pulled back and smiled shyly at each other, before Draco pulled her hand up and gave her palm a quick peck.  
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time."  
"Me too." She admitted.  
"Now, I want to know one thing."  
"Yes?"  
"Does Weasley fancy you?"  
"No," laughed Hermione, "he's got his eye on Luna…"  
"Good, good. I'd be a shame to ruin our… _thing_ over a mangled corpse."  
Laughing, they continued their rounds, now walking hand in hand and occasionally stealing glances at each other, stopping for a quick peck now and then.  
A few words floated down the corridor behind them  
"He's a wise old coot, Dumbledore, isn't he?"

* * *

**  
****HAPPY BIRTHDAY... again! I hope you like this, I worked hard on it!  
My first ever Hermione/Draco... how did I do?  
Love,  
Moretta**


End file.
